Memorable Images Stand Out In Blur That Is Aids Charity Ride

September 07, 1996|By JIM SHEA; Courant Staff Writer

The four-day, 300-mile, Boston- New York AIDS Ride2 is life in a blur.

What day? What time? What route? What situation?

What does it matter?

The miles, the time, the towns, the people, the conversations, the pit stops, the meals, the campsites, the pain, the exhaustion, the laughter, the tears all eventually meld into a warm-and-fuzzy montage of shared experience.

Boston-New York AIDS Ride2 is:

The riderless bike at the opening ceremonies in memory of those who were not there to ride.

Bostonians on their way to work Thursday morning who cheered the riders at every corner.

The guy in the food line talking about riding in last year's event in the rain: ``. . . and there was this kid standing in the rain in his driveway next to a homemade sign that reads: `If you can stand the rain, it might ease someone's pain.' I cried for the next half-hour.''

The elderly woman in Eastford standing on her front lawn saying thank you to riders as they pass.

Rubber legs.

Sore neck.

Numb hands.

Tender bottom.

Patti Vogel of Windsor, waiting on the corner Friday and hoping to see her brother, Mark, of Hartford, and the two embracing when they meet.

A line of scrubbed schoolchildren in eastern Connecticut waving from the curb.

Signs nailed to trees.

Cops directing traffic with a kind word for everyone.

Motorists beeping their horns in support.

Water stops, bananas, power bars, bagels, fruit drinks, box lunches.

People of all ages and physical abilities pushing themselves.

Covering 100 miles in one day without benefit of an engine.

Doing something for a cause.

Doing something for one's self.

Just doing anything after so much loss, so much frustration.

The Connecticut countryside in late summer: the light, the early morning mist, the fields of flowers, the smell of manure, the rows of corn, the reddening apples.

Rubber legs.

Sore neck.

Numb hands.

Tender bottom.

Standing in line to eat, drink, shower, ride, receive medical attention, go to the bathroom, and not becoming impatient.

People looking out for each other.

Raising awareness at every turn.

Hills that wind, and rise, and demand, and give no quarter, and then rise and wind some more.

Flat tires.

Heavy packs.

Hot helmets.

``And miles to go . . .''

This morning, the ride leaves Black Rock State Park in Watertown for Yorktown Heights, N.Y., 76 miles away. Sunday it concludes with a 53-mile leg into Manhattan.

The memories will last a lifetime. Fortunately, other things will not: